ledge which belongs to that infamy. For years I was thus guarded, and it is very probable Mr. Glentworth was not less so: the intention was good undoubtedly, but it prevented us from knowing any thing of each other, which I hold in the light of a misfortune, and never shall cease to do.
"My heart recoils, my spirit trembles, as I approach my story; no personal sense of my own innocence protects me from the bitter shame, the burning blushes, that seem to blister my whole frame, as I approach the plague-spot of my injured and disgraced existence, yet, to save others from the pangs I feel, I would that every wife verging to my mother's sin could witness my anguish, and so far share it, that she might quickly retrace her steps, renew her vows to her husband, and thankfully adhere even to age and imbecility, loathsome disease, and virulent ill humour, rather. than indulge her own selfish passion at the expence of her suffering offspring.
"My unhappy parent had no such excuse; she left a young, handsome, idolizing husband, who had given her rank and title, being no other than your own uncle, Lord Rotheles, to share the shame of a younger brother, already married to a lovely (an angelic) wife and the father of a promising boy about seven years old; that boy is Francis Glentworth, your worthy husband; alas! his only rela-
